


Two Old Souls

by mullingsounds



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: AU where my OTP exists, Anxiety, Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Spoilers, F/M, Flashbacks, Fluff, Just love each other already gdi, M/M, Mutual Pining, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Sam/Bucky - Freeform, The Winter Falcon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-02
Updated: 2017-02-25
Packaged: 2018-07-28 21:37:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7657630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mullingsounds/pseuds/mullingsounds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just as Steve nodded and tried to smile as he said goodbye to Bucky again, Sam had different plans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Light

Sam stormed into the room, the deepest furrow between his eyebrows. ‘No, no! What the hell do you think you’re doing, Barnes? We spend years searching for your ass, then go outside the law to save your ass and you’re just gonna leave this guy again? Hell no!’ Sam yelled, as he threw his arm in Steve’s direction. Steve stepped towards Sam, a smile slowly growing. Steve fought the twitch to nod in agreement with Sam. He didn’t want to lose Bucky again. He didn’t want to see Bucky disappear before his eyes for the second time. However, Bucky made his own decisions. 

‘Sam, it’s his choice.’ 

‘It’s a stupid one.’ Sam realised how curt the phrase was. ‘Cap, I will never understand your friendship with Barnes, he seems cool now, aside from the multiple attempts to eradicate us, but you need him. You need each other. I didn’t see your face when you reunited, but it had to resemble what people see on that video in the Smithsonian.’ 

‘Well - it wasn’t.’ James finally chimed. He stood dumbfounded, questioning whether it was the Sam Wilson, the bird guy, trying to convince him he shouldn’t do this. 

‘Look Wilson, like I told Steve, I can’t control this. This controls me. And I don’t wanna risk hurting anybody. Especially you.’ Sam raised his eyebrow. ‘Y- you, guys.’ He gestured to both of them. The three stood, glancing from one to the other in silence. Steve had his own answer. Sam’s mind was so fried from anger at the pair of them for not telling him about this, he was speechless. James. James wanted to stay for them both. He wanted to start reconnecting with his friend. He wanted to learn more about the bird guy. If Steve had kept him around this long, there was a reason. 

Sam sighed, and shook his head as he stormed back through the door. ‘Do whatever you want, Barnes.’ He called as the door closed. 

‘Why is he so against this?’ James said, hearing Sam voice his protest to whoever was in earshot of the corridor. ‘I thought of all people he would want me to go back under.’ 

‘Y’know he chose to come with me when I looked for you. Stayed with me the entire time, so uh – why?’ 

‘He genuinely told me he hated me.’ 

‘He told me you were being a smart ass.’

‘I saved his ass!’ James countered. They chuckled together, and James looked towards the door. 

He wasn’t pining over this guy. But this guy was fighting pretty hard to keep him from leaving Steve again. Steve was seconds from coming clean about how he really felt when –

‘Steve.’ James breathed. ‘What if I do something – something again? You’re all much safer with me doing this. If I snap back and find out I’ve tried to hurt you again. I –’ He dropped his gaze to the space where it used to be. The control. Perhaps it was the source. Maybe that’s why Stark ripped it off. Did he know that was what it was? That – that was the source? No. He couldn’t have known. He’s too arrogant to have kept that to himself. Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. 

Steve kept quiet. Of course, he wanted to his friend to stay with him. His hands may not be the complete safest. But he didn’t want Bucky alone again. 

The pair shot their heads towards the door as Sam stormed back in. Not finished with the yelling. 

‘Barnes, please. I don’t beg. But you can’t do this.’ James brushed his hair back with his good, obeying arm and sighed. ‘We need you. Cap told me you’re a hero.’ He pulled up the chair closest to James and sat down, forearms on his thighs as he frantically gesticulated ahead of him. ‘You may not trust yourself. For a while, I wasn’t sure I could trust you and I admit that. Though you had intended to kill me on more than one occasion,’ he added quietly. ‘But you are not alone.’ He’s fighting for you, Buck. You. He’s not talking to Steve. Steve doesn’t wanna refreeze himself. Look at him. Look at his eyes. This is for you. ‘We can try and help you while you’re y’know – still conscious. Right, Cap?’ Sam’s pleading look melted the Captain’s heart. Even he couldn’t understand why Sam was against Bucky’s cyronic endeavour. He smiled again, he smiled for Sam. 

‘Right. We’ll be with you, Buck. Both of us. They won’t find you here. We don’t know what we’re up against anymore – but fuck the guy that tries to hurt you.’ Sam jabbed his index finger in Steve’s direction as he nodded in compliance, face still pleading. Steve had never seen Sam like this, but he was supporting Bucky. He was okay with that. 

‘His Majesty knows you meant no harm. He will do his best to keep you safe.’

‘Your Majesty, Sam?’ Steve asked with a slight smile. ‘He’s not the Cat Guy, anymore?’ Steve smirked again. 

‘Look R-’ Sam began.

‘And you?’ James muttered, his gaze averted to the ground. ‘Will you keep me safe?’ The words fell out like a loose joint in a socket, and just like a shoulder, it was hard to put them back in place. 

‘I can promise you that I will do my best.’ 

For years, decades, James flitted back and forth between the hope that, through an unattainable fantasy, he’d find his way back to the old time he had with Steve. Before the war, Steve’s serum, before Peggy - when it was just the two of them. But his stroke of light had amplified. Not only did he have his greatest friend again, but he’d found an old soul in Sam. That glimmer of a flame that helps you find the light at the end of the cave. Of course, their time together hadn’t been long, but Sam fought for him, rooted for him. Even after everything he tried to forgive himself for. 

And nobody but Steve ever did that.

James cursed himself for comparing Sam to Steve. He felt closer to Sam in the past few minutes than during their battle with Stark. Sam was his own constellation, and seemed to want a place in James’s life and for that, James wanted to hold onto him. 

‘Alright, Wilson, you twisted my arm.’ James said.

Sam laughed hard for a few seconds before realising his audience and muttered, ‘Sorry. Too soon.’


	2. Not Always

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve's off on a little excursion. Sam and Bucky need to kill time somehow. But no killing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I've done this all wrong. Like very, very incorrectly. But here you go!

The next morning was a sparkling domestic scene, one that was destined to become a reckless Greekesque tragedy. Tensions lived in the walls and seeped through every breathing body, and for Steve, he couldn’t sprint this into a black hole. He needed to talk to someone.

James spent the early hours of the morning trying to memorise the former conversation between the three of them. He had tried to sleep, longing to relieve the biting, itching tension that had ripened for decades through each kill. Steve and Sam, they needed him. How much? He didn’t know, but he’d soon find out. Sam was very quick to paraphrase Steve’s words to James. ‘In Steve’s darkest and loneliest hours, _you_ were there, Barnes.’

So he laid awake and waited, wished for a little hint of presence near him, a teddy bear or something. He knew his thoughts were ridiculous. But this was all very new to him. A bed moulded his shape, as opposed to a leather chair. There were whistles and flutters of unknown birds in place of commanding voices and piercing eyes. He rolled over onto his side and slid his right arm around his own waist. James’s eyes fluttered closed.

_Shape the century. Sergeant Barnes? Cause you’ve got nothing to prove. Prep him._

James’s eyes shot open, just as quickly as they had fallen closed, and he rolled onto his back and pulled the covers closer as he shivered.

Their faces were always going to be there. If not physically, they’d always crop up in his subconscious. Looming over him, ordering him to be the best soldier possible, the silent menace without a face. The cold was always going to follow him, no matter how much light paved ahead.

He tried to picture and memorise the conversation again. He looked for the fear in Sam and Steve’s faces – he couldn’t find what he saw in the others. The widened eyes that wished for it to be over. The bead of sweat that trickled down a temple, the plead, the struggle – the final silence. This was absent in them. They wanted him here. He sat up against the headboard and whispered:

‘I can be that for them – f- for me.’

* * * *

‘Know when you’re coming back?’

‘Shouldn’t be more than a few days. I just – I wanna talk to her. Tell her what’s been going on.’ Steve pulled up the corner of his mouth and slung his bag over his shoulder. ‘Take care of each other. Later, Buck!’

James raised his arm toward the door, too engrossed in the newspaper he’d picked up downstairs. ‘Tell her I said hi,’ he added as the door shut.

James and Sam’s newfound civility had become increasingly pleasant. Even minutes in each other’s presence chipped away the barrier between the pair. Sam fighting for James to stay had awoken something in them both. What that was – was not what either expected. But for now, Sam’s biggest secret was how intimidated he still felt by Barnes. The good kind of intimidated. Sam never forgot the intensity of James’s past, and the placid look James always had was awe-inducing. He wanted to be there for him, wanted James to know that he wasn’t going anywhere. Bygones.

And James? James wouldn’t admit many things he’d noticed about Sam.

Sam crossed the living room to join James at the kitchen counter. His topic of small talk wasn’t the best. His game was off. ‘I’m really glad him and later-gen Carter didn’t work out.’ Sam mumbled.

‘Yeah, that hook up by the car was – unnecessary. Think she was trying to make us jealous?’ James raised his eyebrows and closed the paper, he needed a glass of water. ‘Besides - it was always Peggy.’ James said. ‘The way him and Peggy looked at each other. You can’t overwrite that.’ Sam fought back a smile as he recalled the glazed doe eyes that followed Steve around the room earlier that morning.

Sam rubbed the back of his head and glanced around the space, filling the silence with a quick clear of his throat. ‘Uh, I don’t – uh know how useful it’d be to you, or _for_ you rather, but – did you wanna train in the big room, Barnes? Never know what Cap could get up to on an innocent visit to the Agent.’

James wasn’t 100%, but he never ignored training. Plus, spending time with Sam was a perk. Sam ensured he’d go easy on him as they left the apartment and walked across T’Challa’s building.

The space shocked James, for it wasn’t a standard four-wall room. They stood at the base of an octagon, with a skylight ceiling allowing the peaks of trees to peer in at them.

‘You want run around for a little, Barnes?’ James kicked each of his legs in front of him and reached down to try and touch his toes, losing balance a little.

‘I can give it a go. I’ll follow you.’ Sam jogged ahead, a little to his left, and kept James in his periphery. James’s hair was out of his eyes, and a slight smirk lit up his face. Sam didn’t know James was beguiled by his lower half. It’s a little hard to catch a glimpse of this when over five highly trained individuals are trying to take you down.

They ran for a while longer, James still not over the clenching of each cheek as Sam’s feet hit the ground. This was logged for the future.

‘Alright, my heart rate’s high enough. Gotta stretch. Then we’ll do this.’ Sam gestured his hand to James and himself before he snuck in an eyebrow raise.

* * * *

Sam retrieved two pairs of gloves and hesitated before tossing a pair at James’s feet. He watched James squat and fiddle with one, tugging the Velcro back between his teeth, mentally deciding how he planned to put the glove on without Sam’s help.

‘This isn’t one of my smarter ideas.’ Sam said.

‘You kidding? Look, I may appear – ‘armless, but I think I can still move.’ Sam chuckled and jogged a few feet to help James put the glove on his hand.

‘Let’s see what you can do without flying kids and metal robots, Barnes.’ He smiled and realised, ‘Sorry, too soon.’

For a few minutes, onlookers would perceive two amateurs trying to fight with the constant fear of hurting the other. But two elite agents who invoked fear in the entire world, seemingly afraid of nothing – were afraid of each other. This was territory neither would have considered without Steve, but Sam bit the bullet and here they were. The taps each received were met with the same, steady and non-threatening force until Bucky changed the pace. He locked eyes with Sam as he tore the Velcro off, again with his teeth, removed the glove and tossed it aside.

‘We never have gloves. And stop taking it easy.’ He said. Their footing sped up and attack and defence became the game. An aimed punch for the torso was blocked by a firm grip and twist of the wrist. Their breath shortened and grunts echoed above them. A forceful hooked kick halted by a solid, fleshy forearm. Both picked up patterns until -

Sam bit his second bullet and abruptly struck James’s chest with a _hard_ blow. James finally lost his footing and went down like a stringless puppet. He groaned a little before he jumped to his feet and smirked, ‘you’ve been training with Steve.’ Sam shrugged, still on his toes, ready to strike back. He was ready. James ran full speed at Sam and lodged his boot in the creak of Sam’s hip. He grabbed hold of his arm to hoist himself up onto Sam’s shoulders. He spun Sam and himself gracefully in the air before he slammed them both to the ground.

‘Well, I’ve played with Romanoff a few times.’ James unwrapped his legs from Sam’s neck and rolled over to stand. Sam choked out a laugh as he rubbed his hip. He refused to show just how hurt he felt.

‘I can’t believe I was taken down by a man who was around before Alaska was declared a state.’


	3. A Flame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and James subconsciously scrub up pretty well for dinner. The pair watch an action film and are disappointed. Steve interrupts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of jumping in this chapter. I wanted to address a couple of things before the next few chapters, so you’ll see many double hyphens which’ll either skip a time period, or change the POV. Hope it isn’t the worst to keep up with. Also I hope it doesn’t suck, but I know I can’t ask for the world.

‘How hard would you hit me if I made an old guy joke?’ Sam asked.

James replied, ‘I wouldn’t hit you. I’d be disappointed in your lack of originality.’

‘Ah, there’s that tongue Steve mentioned.’ James smiled over at him.

One of T’Challa’s guards caught sight of them, kept her arms crossed firmly behind her and narrowed her eyes. Sam caught her eye, grinned and gave a vigorous wave.

‘You know that woman?’ James mumbled.

‘Yeah, she almost shot me the day you wanted to go back into cryo.’ James stopped briefly and frowned at him. They continued their walk when Sam spoke. ‘Well, after I stormed out and carried on mumbling how I didn’t understand why you wanted to do this, etcetera, I lunged at a guard who told me to move along quietly and – uh, she didn’t take too kindly to that.’ James widened his eyes and shook his head. Short lived disbelief as he recalled all the Soldier’s reactions to being hit.

‘I’m sorry about that.’

‘C’mon, it was a mass of things that made me mad that day. Stark called for the third time with no answer, like take a hint, man, we don’t want to talk to you. Your wanting to go back under – selfish as I sound – just tipped me over. You didn’t – well, _don’t_ seem like the kinda guy to run and hide.’

‘I went off the grid for two years. I’m the epitome of a runner.’ Sam looked ahead, his face placid.

‘No,’ Sam was curt again. ‘After everything you’d been through, Barnes, you needed to figure out the way everything worked in and around you. Alone. Maybe you did, or didn’t. But you didn’t run. Someone drew you out. You’ve fought time and time again, and I admire you for that.’ James dipped his head to the ground as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind his ear, and mumbled his gratitude.

The more time James spent with Sam, he felt inches of memories as the Soldier falling behind in the race. He knew. He always knew a voice, or a face would make an untimely appearance – one that sped past him and waved a white flag in his face as they cackled at his despair. But Sam’s _voice_. He felt a loss of time around him when mere minutes had passed.

Though he hadn’t said much on their walk, Sam felt energy surging from James – heavy, purposeful steps, even if they were only going back to the apartment. Sam thought he made the effort with James for Steve’s benefit, he doubted it was easy to have his past and present comrades collide in such a manner. But this was for him now. James was – phenomenal. His face told the story while his words were validation. Sam soaked in his very presence, and it was – it was nothing like being around Steve.

\--

‘I won’t be too long,’ James said, as he disappeared into his room. He quickly removed each article before climbing into the shower. The water felt nice, particularly over his head. He slowly ran his flesh hand through his overgrown hair; he frowned a little at the moulting in his hand, but hummed at the sensation. He looked down to the space again, half hoping for another hand and arm to reappear. It was so much easier, sensitive as it was to think about, he remembered that it protected him, protected Steve – and Sam, once or twice. But it’s absence was best. He still managed to take down the broad, muscly Sam who had plenty of fight in him. He still reeled at the firm, but gentle ‘tap-out’ Sam gave him on his upper thigh. He dropped his hand from his hair and let it hover over his pelvis. If he hadn’t said he’d be quick in the shower, James might’ve indulged his roaming thoughts. There was always later.

As Sam leant back in the deep bathtub, he stretched out his legs and let his eyes flutter closed. He massaged his sore pelvis and winced when he applied a little more pressure. As he glanced down, he saw an emerging bruise shaped like a boot print. That Barnes, he thought with a smile. He gave into the pain. James’s thighs were not deceiving. He lingered over the image of said thighs wrapped around his neck. His heart raced, his body blushed, even under the lukewarm water. _Maybe under different circum-_ The pressure of the water snapped him back. _Shit, he’s out of the shower._

Without realising, James had put on a little more eau de toilette than usual. He pulled the brush through his hair for longer before gathering it up in a small, low bun. He had even conditioned his growing beard. He pulled on a black button up shirt, after his jeans and rolled the sleeves up to his elbows.

Sam was no different. He gently ran his soft bristled brush through his hair, smoothing out the short strands where he could. His cheekbones crept higher as he regarded himself in the mirror. He didn’t look so bad. The burgundy sweater he paired with some beige trousers hugged tightly to his frame. If James caught a rear sight of him, he certainly be pleased. Sam took a breath, and left his room to start dinner.

An image of his mother and sister laughing and talking in the kitchen as he cooked the recipe the way he’d been shown. It dragged him back to an easier trail of thought. No, James wasn’t a difficult thought. In fact, in hindsight, he’s one of the clearest. A mix of stories from Steve, and talking to the guy himself, he felt silly for being bitter. However, it was always a bittersweet pleasure to think about the past.

Though he’ll never get over the steering wheel. He loved that car.

James emerged from his room and found Sam as he fussed over the stove. He reached his side and watch a white sauce bubble slightly as Sam stirred. In the pot behind the white sauce, a sort of mince cooked in a bright red tomato sauce. The smell of a home cooked meal brought James a lifetime back. He hoped it was lasagne. He looked around the counters for signs of cans of tomatoes. None. Instead, he saw discarded green vines and forgotten juices on a chopping board.

‘What’ve you put in those sauces? Doesn’t smell like what I’m used to.’ James asked. Sam tapped the side of his nose and smiled as his focus remained on the pots. ‘If you poison me, I’ll know.’ Sam stopped stirring, looked up at James and cocked his brow with a look of derision. ‘I’m trusting you, Sam.’ James placed his hand over his heart and winked.

‘This is my mom’s recipe. Lasagne was, still is, my favourite dish. And look at me, I’m big, strong and not at all unwell.’ He returned the wink.

 _You certainly are big_. James thought.

\--

James waffled down his incredibly large slab of lasagne in silence, minus the clanking of cutlery against the plate. Every so often, he looked over at Sam when his head was dipped and wanted to say thank you, but he thought three times before, during and after dishing his portion was – enough.

‘So you like it?’ Sam asked as he cut himself another little section. James shot his head up, his mouth full of lasagne and smirked at him with a slow nod. Once Sam finished his food, he crossed the room to the stereo and shuffled his phone playlist. One of his other favourites played and he shut his eyes and swayed to the slow beats. Finally, he opened his eyes to James watching him in awe.

‘What? You don’t dance?’ Sam said, smiling widely as he swirled his hips in time with Al Green.

‘I haven’t danced much since the 40s.’ James mumbled as he rose to his feet, crossing the room.

‘Well, show me how that goes.’

‘Not to this music.’ James muttered under his breath as he moved towards the stereo. After a quick YouTube search, the soul music stopped, replaced by Ella Fitzgerald’s ‘Dream a Little Dream of Me.’ James slowly walked back over to where Sam stood as he embraced the dulcet tones that sang. Sam hoped he’d hidden his shaking hands by his sides. He tried to ignore the intensity of James’s expression as they stood face to face. James placed his arm around Sam’s waist, and indicated Sam do the same. And there it was. The barrier fell. James couldn’t help but rest his head on Sam’s shoulder as they swayed quietly to Ella. He recovered quickly, he didn’t want to scare Sam.

‘Oh, I haven’t heard this one in a while.’ Sam mumbled, his eyes focused on a spot behind James. He’d surely buckle under if he met James’s eyes.

‘You weren’t even born when this was released.’ James retorted, he tightened his grip around Sam’s waist slightly.

‘And how do _you_ know when I was born? You read my file or something?’ Sam joked. He finally looked up just as James tucked his bottom lip between his teeth and smiled a little. God, his _smile_ , Sam thought. ‘So – you did read my file.’

‘Yeah, and uh – I’m – I’m sorry about Riley.’ Sam subconsciously rubbed James’s back lightly before he let go and sauntered back to the kitchen. James ran his hand through his hair and almost tugged it out, once out of Sam’s vision. God, he didn’t need to bring Riley up. But he wondered. Everyone was so caught up with looking out for James. Had anybody been there for Sam? He carried a story like Steve, Nat and himself. Did Sam know that he had people? James wavered a little. He wanted Sam to know he had him, if he needed. Though James didn’t feel he had any right to know any more than what Sam’s file told him. Not worthy, almost.

All James wanted Sam to know he was an ear, an individual to confide in, maybe – No, James scoffed internally. Never that. Or maybe.

\--

Sam wondered whether he’d become a little more transparent. Didn’t he hide it as well as before? He’d go through moments of placidness, not where everything was right in the world, but where it hurt a little less. But somewhere between Steve or Nat speaking to him, or the stirring of his cup of coffee, it all hit at once.

Riley’s unknowing expression – or how the last thing Riley saw was pure horror on Sam’s face. He talked little about it. It wasn’t something he could fully explain. He rather wanted to help others – James saw this. How willing Sam was to run to another’s aid – to help everything outside of himself. A lot of the time, Sam wasn’t sure how much difference he made. Of course, he missed all the silent thank-you-smiles and unsaid words of appreciation.

‘You want a drink, Barnes?’ Sam glanced over his shoulder from the kitchen, James’s obeying hand shot up with an eager and silent thumbs-up.

Sam beckoned James to the couch as he held a bottle of Glenfidditch and two tumblers. ‘T’Challa imports the good stuff. Gotta high five him on it sometime.’

Bucky grabbed his glass, raised it and indicated Sam do the same. ‘Here’s to Steve. He brought us here.’

James had the remote and flicked through the channels – one romantic comedy after the next, until he switched to the middle of a chase scene of an action film. He threw the control to his side and settled back with Sam.

Sometime after their fourth clink to Steve, though their eyes had mildly glassed over, they commenced their own personal anecdotes as ‘accurate’ commentary.

‘Look at this!’ Sam yelled, his drink swished a little wave. ‘This guy’s opened his parachute too late, wh– he should have shattered shins! God, we’d be out for weeks if we did that.’ Sam’s eyes were glued to the screen, he waited for the next blunder to put to bed, but James beat him to it.

‘Let me guess,’ James began. ‘He’s gonna parkour jump into a barrel roll with no hiccup and continue ru- My legs would be shot if I did that! Only my arm was made of metal!’ James screamed and spilled his drink on him a little. ‘Woops,’ he mumbled as he foolishly rubbed it in. Sam peeked at James from the corner of his eye, focused on the taut muscles James stroked as he tried to fix his spill. He gripped his glass tighter for the fear of it sliding through his hand. With a sting in his eye, he continued to watch James – watch as his fingers foolishly brushed the same spot.

James knew Sam had stopped watching the movie. The quips stopped and were replaced with long, deep and controlled breaths. ‘You doing okay, Sam?’ James stopped playing with his shirt and turned slightly. ‘C’mon, a pensioner gonna out drink you?’

Sam snapped out of his daze to James’s voice with a nod, and cleared his throat thick with lost words. ‘Hell no.’ Another chase scene appeared and the pair glued their eyes to the screen. Sam couldn’t slip again. But God, he wanted to. James’s shallow breathing distracted him. Though Sam was oblivious to the rise and fall of his own, broad chest being watched.

The night wasn’t supposed to go like this. Sam’s mind fluttered back to James. James couldn’t get the image of his thighs wrapped around Sam’s neck. He couldn’t stop his mind from wandering. But he preferred this – much more. Every thought of Sam was his. He tried to shake out of it, tried to focus on the movie while he shifted forward and back to change his position. If he didn’t stop soon, Sam could take one glance below his waist and figure it out whether James made a move or not.

With impeccable timing, both of their phones buzzed. The pair sighed as the tension thinned. Sam reached for his phone, while James closed his eyes and tipped his head to the ceiling. ‘Looks like Steve’s staying in England for a few more days.’ Sam said.

‘He doing okay?’

‘God, I hope so. We should send him a picture.’ Sam suggested. ‘I’ve got one.’ He pulled James close to him and lightly kissed the corner of his mouth as he took the picture. James pulled slowly after the shutter sound.

‘We shouldn’t send him that.’ Sam raised his eyebrow, then chuckled before saying, ‘Oh unclench, I’m not sending Cap that.’ Or, so he thought.

\--

Sam’s phone buzzed against the glass table. His eyes widened when he read Steve’s message.

‘Good to see you guys getting along.’ James shook his head and laughed loudly as he picked up a cushion and playfully threw it at Sam.

‘We could’ve been doing something worse.’ He went rigid and Sam shot him a smirk and little head shake.

‘Yeah, we could have.’ He grabbed Sam’s hand and kissed it lightly. A brave move. His heart skipped when Sam scrunched his face up and leaned closer to him. 

The phones buzzed again. Sam groaned as he retrieved his. ‘God, Cap doesn’t – oh. Oh, shit.’ Sam stood up quickly and tapped at his phone, then held it to his ear. James quickly reached for his and scanned the messages. He shot a look up to Sam.

‘Is it ringing?’

‘Yeah, but no answer.’ He paced around the living room, eventually heading back to the table to pick up his emptying tumbler. ‘Goddammit, Steve. Nope, not good enough, you’re _gonna_ answer me.’

 


End file.
